


A New Game

by Mockingbirds



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbirds/pseuds/Mockingbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of deception, manipulation and corruption. Jim Moriarty will stop at nothing to get what he wants and what he wants is Mycroft Holmes. Maybe sometimes, the endings we get aren't always the happy ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is how it starts. A phone call. I can't call it normal because a phone call between a consulting criminal and the British Government is far from normal, but it's the smallest things that start the biggest avalanches.

Mycroft had always managed to keep his relationship with Detective Inspector Lestrade a close secret. Even his wretched brother, Sherlock, had only found out because he’d broken into Lestrade’s flat, God knows why, and found Mycroft’s tie. Yes, the politician had kept his cards very close to his chest. Jim pondered this for the third time this week, which is more than he’d ever thought about anything. Normally it didn’t take him long to think things through but this, this was... different.

In fact, Jim had only discovered Mycroft’s relationship status because of Sherlock. The so-called genius couldn’t tell when his flat was bugged. Jim thought he’d made it obvious enough but evidently not. No matter, Jim was quite content to keep the bugs in use if Sherlock hadn’t had the sense to rip them out of the wall yet. Bullet holes are a prime location for bugs, it’s lucky Sherlock gets so violently bored.

Jim leaned back in his chair, biting the thumb nail of his right hand in thought. Now a new game was in play. Jim had always wanted Mycroft’s... co-operation, but had always been unclear on an effective way to get it. The Detective Inspector was out of the question, threatening Mycroft with Lestrade’s well being wouldn’t bring him co-operation, if anything more resistance. Lestrade knew Mycroft would always put his work first, national importance and all, so he’d be prepared to be used as bargaining chips. That’s not what Jim could afford; anyone who is prepared to be used like that is of no value to him. No, he needed something else. He grinned wickedly to himself. Now he knew Mycroft’s... preferences... He could have the politician wrapped around his little finger. That’s exactly what he wanted.

It started with a phone call.

Mycroft’s voice was thick with importance as he answered the phone. “Mycroft Holmes.”

Jim smiled “Mycroft, my dear! How are you?”

“If this is a social call, Mr Moriarty, you’re wasting both our times.”

Jim chuckled down the line “Oh, Mycroft, I do love it when you call me that.” He said with a hint of a growl that made Mycroft’s throat tighten.

“I don’t care. Kindly tell me what you want or end this call before I do.” Mycroft snapped, drumming his fingers on the desk he was sat behind.

“Oh, don’t ruin my fun! I was merely checking up on you. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you now, would we?” Jim purred down the line, almost hearing Mycroft’s thoughts pause for a second.

“How considerate of you. I’m fine. Goodbye, Mr Moriarty”

“And send my regards to the detective inspector, won’t you?” Jim called, knowing the receiver was half way back to its cradle. There was a pause.

“I’m sorry?” Mycroft’s voice sounded tight, despite his efforts to remain nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Jim cooed, “I understand that you and the good Detective Inspector Lestrade have an... arrangement.” His tongue clicked the final “T” in a way that radiated smugness to Mycroft’s quickly reddening ears.

There was a soft clatter as a pen was dropped, making Jim laugh almost silently. Mycroft stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t possibly confirm Moriarty’s statement, nor could he deny it. Moriarty already knew it to be true after all, but he couldn’t give Jim the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

“What business of yours is my private life?” He muttered down the phone, through clenched teeth.

“None at all, I just found it... Interesting. I’d never thought you to be type to settle down, especially not with someone like Lestrade.”

“Don’t- What’s that supposed to mean?” Mycroft’s impatience causing his professional mask to slip.

“I think you know what it means” Jim laughed, his voice hinting at a growl again. “Goodbye, Mycroft, I’ll be in touch.” He hung up before Mycroft could answer, knowing that he had sent the politician’s mind into disarray with his fruitless answers and ambiguous comments. Of course, the subtext was quite clear but to someone like Mycroft, he would think of a hundred different meanings behind Moriarty’s words before arriving at the right conclusion. And by then it would be too late.


	2. Two Birds, One Stone.

Mycroft sat numbly at his desk, dropping the phone back into its cradle. “How could he know? How could he possibly know?” was all that echoed through his head. He’d expected Moriarty to find out at some point but not so quickly. He’d prepared Greg for the possibility of Moriarty using him as leverage. Greg had been so understanding; he smiled fondly at the thought, remembering how he’d feared that it might scare Greg away, the possibility of kidnapping, torture, even death, for either of them. Greg was truly remarkable. 

His fond smile disappeared as reality brought the gravity of the situation crashing on to his shoulders. James Moriarty found his relationship with Lestrade “interesting”. Never had a notion chilled Mycroft to the bone as much as this. He had never underestimated Moriarty’s capabilities and coupled with this new found knowledge, he was more dangerous than ever. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger wearily. Yet another thing to add to his endless list of things to do. It would go straight to the top of course, or as near as he could get it. Just beneath the Korean elections and saving the economy from the brink of collapse. Again.

Mycroft leaned back in his chair as he thought deeply. Aside from the threat Moriarty posed, he had behaved strangely on the phone. Well, he always behaved strangely, Mycroft braved an amused quirk of his mouth, but even stranger than usual.

“I’d never thought you’d be the type to settle down, especially not with someone like Lestrade.”

The words echoed around his head as though Moriarty was whispering them in his ear. “Settle down”? That’s certainly not what Mycroft was doing, that much was obvious, which made Moriarty either an idiot or Moriarty was implying something. And James Moriarty was no idiot. So, what had he been implying? Mycroft hissed to himself in irritation. This shouldn’t be so difficult; it was never this difficult to work out what someone was thinking. And Mycroft was expected to know “exactly what it means”!? That was a step too far for Mycroft’s mind to comprehend right now, had Moriarty said something earlier in the conversation that would make this all so much clearer? Had Mycroft simply not been listening hard enough to begin with? Mycroft received far too many phone calls from Moriarty to feel the need to hang on to every word he says anymore. His calls were purely a ruse to get Mycroft’s attention diverted for a while so he could kidnap Sherlock or blow up part of a government building. Humiliate him, in short. Now, he simply ignored his calls but watched him closer than ever.

He drummed his fingers again in irritation and sighed. He couldn’t work anymore tonight; his mind was too busy with too many thoughts, and none of them about the paperwork before him. He stood and stretched away the creeping pains that come from sitting in the same position for 8 hours. He looked at the clock. 3.25am. No wonder his brain was worn out. At least he was getting an early night tonight; Greg would be pleased about that.

He shuffled from his office and up to the bedroom where Greg was already asleep, tangled in the sheets and snoring lightly. Mycroft smiled to himself as he changed, taking the time to fold his suit neatly despite his brain demanding he get straight to bed without a moment’s hesitation. He carefully detangled some of the sheets from Lestrade’s grip (thank God he was a heavy sleeper) and shifted himself closer to the man he loved.

Still, Moriarty was all that he thought of that night. 

Halfway across the city, Jim was already setting his next plan of action in motion. He needs to drive the Holmes brothers apart. Mycroft’s sickening loyalty to his brother despite Sherlock’s obvious disdain for the man was a problem. How can he expect to turn the British Government into the weapon he wanted it to be if its living incarnation still believed that his brother would eventually come around to liking him? No. The Ice-man needed to become just that – heartless and cold, not with this soft spot for the consulting detective and his toy soldier. Or for the policeman for that matter - but that’s for later.

Jim turned his attention to the CCTV he had in Sherlock’s flat. What could he use to drive the brothers apart? The flat provided nothing, anything that Moriarty destroyed and then framed Mycroft for would just be replaced and forgotten about. What did Sherlock need more than anything? Apart from the Army doctor. Jim smirked when he thought of something – his cases – the thing that keeps Sherlock from getting so terribly bored. More importantly: the person that provides them - who just so happened to be sharing Mycroft’s bed. Jim grinned broadly to himself as a plan settled into place in his mind. Time to kill two birds with one stone.


End file.
